


Bricks and Mortar

by Weshallc



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Best Friends, Friendship, Gen, Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-11 19:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weshallc/pseuds/Weshallc
Summary: Taking a wee Turnadette break (they will be back). I wanted for a long time to write about Phyllis & Barbara's friendship. Towards the end of Series 7, I noticed Babs was looking a bit peaky. So I got a shift on and wrote this prior to episode 7. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.First published on FF and Tumblr.





	1. True Yorkshire Grit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes a look back at the path that lead Nurse Phyllis Crane SRN SCM to Nonnatus, she is expected, but don't say Hello (unless you're American)!

The allocation to Poplar, situated in London's East End was to be just another of those assignments Nurse Phyllis Crane had become accustomed to in recent years. Stay for the duration of the short contract, work hard, lend experience and knowledge where appropriate. The Poplar job also had a hidden perk, Phyllis hadn't been looking for.

When she discovered the accommodation provided would be in a convent, it brought a wry smile to the staunch atheist's lips. On further consideration Phyllis decided that a stay in a small community, might make a rather nice change. An agreeable contrast to the large over-populated grey nursing accommodation, she was more familiar with.

Home cooked meals would be a welcome change to the fayre usually provided in the hospital dining rooms. It would be so much easier in a more domestic kitchen to have her vegetarian needs catered for, than in a place where food was mass produced. Throughout her impoverished childhood, followed by years of state imposed rationing, a vegetarian diet just seemed like common sense to Phyllis.

The accomplished nurse had received the call to duty, when the Poplar convent midwifery team, found itself once again in the midst of a staffing crisis. Phyllis had always kept moving during her long career. She firmly believed that every qualified nurse should develop a wide scope of practice; gaining throughout their career as much experience as possible. Phyllis had never stayed too long in one place.

She had completed her nurse training, in her native Yorkshire, at the well respected Leeds General Infirmary. She continued to study and attain her midwifery certificate soon after. Phyllis Crane SRN SCM left Hyde Terrace Maternity Home and the North, for London during the Second World War.

Phyllis wasn't reluctant to leave her home, after hearing so much about the world leading London hospitals. Not one to give credit until credit was due, Phyllis was looking forward to seeing for herself. The teaching, only a time of conflict could offer, would bring her new challenges and increase her skill set. Nurse Crane would always be grateful for the nursing care and midwifery skills she had gained in Yorkshire. But Phyllis wouldn't look back as she bordered the 09:15 to King Cross from the blitz damaged Leeds City Station.

A young Phyllis, was also leaving behind a difficult childhood, a history of being bullied and bullying back. She had buried a mother, who she was convinced had tried all her life, to do the job of both mother and father, but had struggled at times to be either. It had took Phyllis Crane a great deal of strength and ambition, to refuse to be kicked into the gutter, where many thought she belonged. She had learned how to earn respect and trust, she also now knew what it was to be of value.

That wasn't all, for the first time in her life she had glimpsed all too briefly, what it might be like to be loved without condition. Along with what it meant to offer that love in return. Her mother had loved her. That was clear from the challenges she had not shied away from. Deciding to keep her unborn child and doing her best to provide and care for her little stranger. Mingled with that love there had also sadly been hidden shame and blame.

Phyllis didn't receive one of those dreaded cold telegrams. Informing her that her lovely Royal Air Force sergeant, had been shot down presumed dead, on a mission from RAF Church Fenton in 1941. She wasn't his wife, like her mother before her the love went unacknowledged. The relationship was unrecognised by law, God and the RAF. Phyllis found out from a close comrade of his, over half a warm shandy, in the snug of a public house by a roaring open fire. It was much kinder than a military telegram. Phyllis never forgot the heat of the fire on her face or the gentle touch of the airman on her hand, as he told her what she already knew in her heart.

Her mother's illicit liaison had left her with Phyllis. Following one night in a Lancashire seaside town, in her daughter's case, with maybe too much credit being given to the use of a hygienic douche; Phyllis had been left only with a wonderful memory. A recollection of a love, she could never envisage finding again. It also left her with a determination to make the best of what was left; what was left was her, her qualifications and a lot of people in need. So Phyllis threw the remainder of her bottle of Omega Spray in the rubbish bin and packed her case.

Suffice to say when Phyllis was asked by the railway station's booking clerk, if she wanted a return ticket? Phyllis answered without hesitation with a very firm, No.

The Blitz had increased the need for highly skilled and committed nursing staff in the nation's capital. Phyllis had witnessed the work of the Luftwaffe from attacks on Leeds and other Northern industrial powerhouses. Nurse Crane's experience and dual training, meant she had made herself a very valuable asset and was in great demand. The bombing may have led to a dreadful loss of life, but it hadn't stopped the creation of life, far from it.

The returning injured servicemen and women needed expert care and so did the surviving bomb victims. But people still caught infectious diseases, developed critical illnesses, had accidents, got older and required more care. Just as they did when the whole world was not at war.

The years between 1939 and 1945 produced a heavy workload for a medic. A nurse like Phyllis thrived on these conditions. It was not that she wasn't horrified by some of the needless tragedy she witnessed. There were times she cried herself to sleep, because of some of the pointless loss of life and suffering she was helpless to prevent.

There was a job to be done and Phyllis firmly believed if a job was worth doing, it was worth doing damn well! By the end of the war, Phyllis had found her collateral had risen rapidly. The creation of the NHS meant she was offered a very senior position in a busy London hospital.

Matron Crane would wear a very smart uniform and have an office with her name engraved on a brass plate on the door. Behind that door would be a large oak desk and a comfortable leather chair. She would never have to worry about money again, The senior nurse would earn a generous salary for a woman, plus a good pension set by, for when she was finally ready to retire.

Phyllis declined the post and chose a life away from paperwork and management. She bought a new car and signed on to a nurse bank, making herself available to be sent where required. To the hospitals and parishes that didn't attract a large number of eager applicants. She accepted shifts, where she knew she would be extremely busy and may not always finish on time. She went where she was needed.

Yes, Phyllis thought to herself at the turn of a new decade, a short spell at Nonnatus House would suit her just fine, as long as no one tried to convert her.


	2. The Leaving of Liverpool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara really didn't have the best of starts at Nonnatus, did she, poor lass.  
> PLEASE NOTE: This chapter corresponds with Series 4 episode 2, so does touch on the subject of still birth.
> 
> Thank you for giving this tribute to Babyllis (or is it Phllarbara) a go. It’s very much appreciated when someone reads my work.

Barbara Gilbert wiped the moisture from her eyes. She read the words written in blue, just inches from her face, _Armitage Shanks_. A muffled voice she was still unfamiliar with, came from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Barbara please let me in."

"I am fine really, I am, I will be out in a minute Trixie. Thank you."

"It's...erm...Patsy. Trixie went to bed an hour ago."

"Sorry, of course. I-I can't hear you."

"That's why I need you to unlock this door. We don't want to rouse the nuns, not on your first night old thing!"

"All right, I will unlock the door in just..Oh! Oh! No!"

Barbara had never been held in a tight embrace, but she hoped when she finally was, it didn't feel as uncomfortable as the pressure on her stomach at that moment. It was like invisible hands were pressing into her abdomen.

Then that feeling, that her entire insides were all rushing at once towards her throat. She felt hot and couldn't stop the tears from falling. She retched; nothing this time. She didn't know which was worse, not being sick or being sick. At least once she did vomit, there was some relief for a short while.

She finally persuaded a vigilant Patsy to leave her post and get some sleep. A small mercy took the form of the contents of her stomach, no longer being tainted scary red. A result of the rosehip syrup, Trixie had added to the Chintz?-whatever it was. What she did know now, whatever it was, had most definitely been alcoholic and nothing like Sanatogen tonic wine. Trixie, probably well meaningly, had duped her. She couldn't think bad of her new colleague, after all she was acting sister every Tuesday or was it Thursday?

Trixie was so sophisticated, she couldn't imagine she would be interested in a humble curate. All the curates that had been assigned to her father’s church, were definitely not Trixie's type. Barbara imagined the blonde nurse with a rather dishy doctor. She guessed the clergyman must be extremely attractive, to have caught Nurse Franklin's eye.

 _Oh God!_ Barbara wasn't blaspheming, she was actually praying for deliverance, as the concertina effect started again. Acting sister or not, Barbara promised her Lord, she would never again accept a drink from Trixie. Now, if He would just relieve her rather naively self-imposed suffering, to reassure her she was forgiven.

...

"No, Daddy everything is just fine. The other nurses are so friendly and the nuns are very kind indeed."

Barbara looked around the Nonnatus hallway to see if she was being overheard.

"It's only been a few weeks Daddy...I know it will take a little while to find my feet." Barbara looked around again and bit her bottom lip.

" I must go now Dad...Give my love to Margaret ...Goodbye... I love you too."

Barbara replaced the receiver on the telephone cradle and bent her head. She hated deceiving her father, but he had enough to worry about with his large troubled inner-city parish. She had wanted to tell him everything she did was wrong. That she had been scolded or corrected so many times. Whether it was because she burnt an omelette, burnt her hand on the autoclave or something more serious. Such as not alerting the acting sister, to the arrival of a neglected child.

There had been good experiences too. Assisting the grumpy Sister Evangelina deliver Colette Wimbish's baby daughter. Playing her part helping Dr Turner remove the mucus from the little girl's airway, enabling the newborn to breathe. She had been the one, who had found the courage and energy, to ensure baby Wimbish received her mother's milk, during their enforced separation.

Barbara had thought that things would improve from then on. Even Sister Evangelina had been impressed with her fortitude and commitment. Then she had made her gravest error yet. She had been so sure, that she was doing the right thing, she hadn't been able to hear Abigail Bissette's baby's heartbeat. She had tried to contact Dr Turner, but the Kenilworth Row surgery telephone was constantly engaged.

The new midwife knew she couldn't leave the red telephone box and head back into Wharf Towers, without the reassurance someone was on the way. Abigail was already extremely anxious and her blood pressure was probably rocketing, while Barbara dithered. So she had rang 999, requesting an ambulance to take her patient to the London.

Mrs Bissette didn't want to be admitted, but she did want answers and seemed to find a crumb of comfort in Nurse Gilbert's decision. Barbara didn't know whether to laugh or cry, when the staff nurse told her they had easily located the foetal heartbeat. She was pleased for Abigail, but felt ridiculous. The fact that Mrs Bissette was being kept in due to hypertension, gave Barbara some sense of justification.

That had dwindled when she had arrived back at Nonnatus House late for high tea. She was greeted at the door by her new and rather peculiar roommate, Nurse Crane. At least Terence Bissette had returned her bicycle to the convent. So she wouldn't have to pay for a replacement out of her wages. Secretly the newcomer had started saving, wanting enough put aside, for a single ticket to Liverpool Lime Street Station.

Barbara wasn't a quitter, when the Bishop allocated her father a parish in central Liverpool, young Barbara had to learn very quickly how to think on her feet and deal with adversity. The move from a suburban Camberwell manse to inner city Liverpool had turned her world upside down. She transferred her scholarship from James Allen's Girls School, Dulwich to a Wirral girls grammar school. As she crossed the Mersey on the ferry to her new school every morning, she felt like a fish out of water.

The other girls teased her for her second hand uniform, and her sisters hand me down shoes. They made fun of her strange accent, which was odd, because the girls that attended her father's church, also teased her for her accent. They refused to befriend her because she _talked far too posh._

Barbara's school days were overshadowed with this irony. As she got older and following her sister's lead, the shy southerner began to make friends, both at church and at school. Where Margaret made friends easily with her charm and wit. Barbara made friends gradually with her kindness and genuine nature.

Student Nurse Gibert was very popular with her colleagues and teachers at the Royal Liverpool United Hospitals. She was often told she lacked confidence, but made up for it in compassion and resourcefulness. It was her father who encouraged her to take the position in the East End. Her sister had married and after the sad loss of their mother, they had both taken over the duties of a vicar's wife.

Mr Gilbert felt some concern for his daughters, taking on the role of their missing parent. Margaret had reassured that she was more than happy to do this. She also agreed with her dad, that Barbara would benefit from seeing more of the world and a good place to start was London.

How was she going to tell them she had failed. That all she wanted was to return to the city she had found so inhospitable as a child, but was now home. Barbara had just come from the clinic room where Nurse Franklin, Nurse Crane and Sister Evangelina all talked over each other, observing and correcting Barbara's unacknowledged faultless pinard technique.

The weary nurse didn't go and listen to music and chat with Trixie and Patsy, as she did most evenings. Nurse Franklin had been short with her earlier and although she could always rely on Patsy for a kind word, she wasn't in the mood. The bank nurse was already in bed reading a Spanish vocabulary book. They exchanged a curt, _Good Evening._ It was Barbara's turn to draw the curtains and thankfully she managed to get that right. She placed her watch on her demarcated side of the bedside cabinet and changed for bed. 

The next thing she knew was a firm tap on her behind. She turned to see Nurse Crane brandishing one of her size 7 slippers.

"Chop chop! Let's have you now! Wakey wakey."

Sufficiently reassured that Nurse Gilbert was now conscious, the older nurse left for the bathroom. She had always shared a room with her sister, until Margaret's marriage. Barbara could remember on more than one occasion they had hurled their slippers at each other, but she hadn't expected this from her latest roommate.

...

Barbara had been so relieved, when Nurse Mount had been asked to accompany her to the Bissette delivery. Sister Evangelina and Nurse Crane were constantly at loggerheads with each other. Nurse Gilbert often felt like the _for_ in the constant game of tit-for-tat, the senior nurses frequently engaged in. Her shortcomings seemed to provide the perfect ammunition for either General to hurl at each other, often leaving poor Nurse Gilbert in no-man's land.

Midwife Gilbert had been right all along, she had been vindicated, there had been a missing foetal heartbeat. When she had heard it today, she had wondered if she'd been so desperate so hear it, she had just imagined it. She hadn't imagined anything, the new midwife had been correct in both cases, because Abigail Bissette had been carrying undiagnosed twins. One healthy little boy and one little girl not meant for this world.

As Barbara had gone to fetch hot water, marvelling at Patsy's professionalism, she doubted she would ever be as calm and capable as Nurse Mount. She wanted to offer up a prayer for the lost child and also for the new life; now being helped into the world by Abigail, Patsy and Dr Turner. The circumstances of the last few days finally overwhelmed her and the tears won the battle.

The door opened and she heard a heavy footstep, she was now accustomed to. She tried to brace herself for further chastisement, but the tears were stubborn in nature and kept falling. Instead of heading into the Bissette's bedroom, the footsteps came quickly towards Barbara.

"First things first," Nurse Crane announced and wrapped her grieving colleague in a warm embrace.


	3. Dear Barbara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading I know this isn't as popular a relationship as some we know, so I do appreciate you taking the time. So we leave Series 4 and 1960 and move forward 3 years. Hope you like letters ;)

Nonnatus House

15th June 1963

Dear Barbara

Thank you for your last letter. I hope you and Tom are keeping well. I was glad to hear you are feeling more settled in Birmingham and you're keeping busy.

As you will have noticed, I have enclosed your missing silver cross. I am afraid the chain was broken, when I found it and the jeweller was unable to repair it. So I took the liberty of replacing it, with one almost identical. I enclose both chains, as I am sure you will want to keep your mother's original one. I do not require any reimbursement and that is my final word on the matter. I was only too glad I found it. I know how upset you were at its loss.

I don't know why I didn't think to look under your bed, before now. I spotted it straight away along with five Penguin biscuit wrappers. Really Barbara, I thought you would have grown out of the habit of storing biscuits under your pillow, once you were wed.

I am afraid I have to be the bearer of some rather difficult news. If you receive a postcard from Italy, don't be alarmed. Young Trixie is visiting her godmother, on an extended holiday of sorts. I am afraid the romance, with the dentist, has ran its course. I don't know the details, but from what I've observed Mr Dockerill still appears keen, so I presume the decision to draw the liaison to a close, is on her part.

Unfortunately whatever the reason for the parting, it is with great regret I have to inform you, it became apparent that Trixie tried to find solace in an old foe. I had my suspicions something was amiss. I think I told you about my aunt, the social drinker, who socialized a bit too often for her own good.

I will spare you the details, but the lass saw sense and confided in Sister Julienne. It's not my place to pass judgment Barbara, but I must say the decision to permit this vulnerable girl to head off to the Italian Riviera, has left me aghast. The poor lamb is staying with a friend of her mother's, she has not seen in years. This is a trip, I would not have encouraged.

You know her better than any of us, she has attended her Tuesday obligation resolutely for nigh on three years. I do suspect of late, she may have been marked absent. I feel the kid would have been better served by staying here at Nonnatus, with people who know and understand her. We could have encouraged her to attend her meetings. How is she going to occupy herself in a fishing village? If she had stayed here, we could have found plenty to keep her busy. Sister Monica Joan is a full-time job in herself, getting all worked up into such a tizzy, over this cataract operation.

Young Nurse Anderson has fit in just fine. She reminds me a little of you, when you first started. Says her prayers every night, she's a good girl and a fine midwife. There hasn't been anymore unpleasantness, well not that she has informed us of. Her and Nurse Dyer are planning to start Health and Relationship Classes, well I say her and Nurse Dyer, I think it's more Valerie’s idea. I am not to sure if Lucille is going to be teaching or attending.

Everytime they discuss it, I am reminded of your first visit to the family planning clinic and can't help but laugh. Recalling your recounting of your antics in the convent bathroom. Barbara I do hope you gave that missile a good sterilizing, after it had bounced all over the walls and floor.

Have you received a postcard from our intrepid adventurers. I was over the moon when Nurse Busby passed her final examinations, but when they said they were off overseas to celebrate, I was slightly flummoxed. In my day, when you qualified, you changed into your new frock and cap and got on with it. Not go swanning off to Africa. Not that I begrudge them. They both deserve a bit of happiness and they held the fort so well, when we were on that very same continent. I was looking at those photos yesterday, you and Tom and your grass ring. I bet you still have it or what's left of it.

So with Nurse Franklin now absent from our ranks. Nurse Mount on safari and you in the Black Country our troops are somewhat depleted. It's becoming increasingly difficult to staff the maternity home. There is talk of Mrs Turner coming back to nursing, but I am not sure how, with two under four. I told you about that terrible business with the housekeeper or Au Pair as Mrs Turner liked to refer to her. Don't you be getting any highfalutin ideas when you return from Birmingham, Miss! Unless you want to feel my slipper again.

Well I better get this in the post, before 6 o'clock. It's Spanish Class tonight. Oh and in answer to your question, Mr Smith has not attended for sometime. His wife is no longer on the district round, she suffered a fall and I believe she is still in St. Cuthberts.

Take Care, you and Tom look after each other, give him my love.

Let's hope the Bishop sends you both back home soon.

We all miss you, no one more than me.

Your very dear friend

Phyllis


	4. My Dear Phyllis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you folks, glad of your company during this tribute to one of my favourite Call the Midwife friendships.
> 
> Unlike some people we could mention, Barbara reads and replies to her letters ;)

Saint Aston's Parish Church  
Handsworth  
Birmingham

19th June 1963

My Dear Phyllis,

Thank you so much for finding my mother's crucifix, it is very dear to me. You can't imagine how distraught I was when I realized it was lost. Phyllis you really are a brick.

I would gladly reimburse you for twenty chains, for finding it and returning it to me. I think I know you well enough to be certain that when you say, let that be an end to it, that is the end.

I can only apologise for the litter under our bed. I am afraid I have to confess that rather than cure my naughty addiction to midnight snacking, marriage seems to have only increased my night time cravings. It's worse than that actually, I have completely corrupted Tom in that department. Last week we went through a whole packet of Penguins in one weekend.

So now I have my little cross to remind me of my parents and a beautiful silver chain to remind me of my dearest friend.

I have received a postcard from Trixie. I am afraid it isn't very informative. Just a few lines about shopping and her tan. Nothing about fishing. She did include an address and I will of course write, although I am not really sure what to say.

I understand your concern Phyllis, I too would feel more content, if I knew she was safe in the company of people who care for her very dearly at Nonnatus. I would have thought keeping her Tuesday night obligation was imperative. I know she drew a lot of strength from the friends she made there. The only reassurance I can give, is she always talked fondly of her godmother and I know they corresponded regularly.

I am so glad Lucille is fitting in, from Val's letters I feel like I know her already. I look forward to having the pleasure of meeting her and working with her. We have also had problems of that nature here in Birmingham. Some of our parishioners have chosen to meet and worship in their own homes, because they don't always feel welcome in the church. It is only a minority of the congregation that behave that way, but it is enough to make everyone feel uncomfortable. I know this distresses Tom greatly, we have done everything we can to try and make everyone feel that they belong.

I sometimes wonder if this was why Tom was sent here, with his inner-city experience. The permanent vicar is older than Tom and it has took time, to gain the trust of a few of the older congregation. We definitely don't want to leave the church with less members than when we arrived. There has been an increase in the number of teenage girls attending Sunday service and the youth club Tom and I run. I don't think that I can take any credit for this sudden influx.

It does weigh heavy on my conscience, when I think about you all working so hard in Poplar, with such depleted numbers. I feel so helpless miles away, with my midwifery skills rusting. I have thought about asking for a few hours at the local maternity home to keep my hand in, Heathfield Road are always looking for staff. I haven't mentioned it to Tom, I know he sees this as his opportunity to make a real difference. It also doesn't hurt that the regular vicar is said to have the Bishop's ear, so it is so important we make a fist of things here.

I have plenty of years ahead of me to continue my nursing and midwifery aspirations. It is rather peculiar if you consider my father encouraged me to move to London to enhance my career. I do suspect he intended to prevent me from taking on the role of a clergyman's wife and that's exactly what I have become.

That sounds like I am complaining, but I am not. I want to support Tom with all my heart, I believe in him and what he stands for. I enjoy running the Sunday School and leading the ladies group. There is so much to do here, it's not dissimilar to home, and by home I mean where my friends and work are, in Poplar.

It's just when I think of you all, working every hour God sends and knowing that I have left a void that won’t be filled, it does concern me. Even though I know Tom was right when he said, “It doesn't matter where any of us are from or where we go, as long as we hold onto one another.” I still miss you all so much and secretly can't wait to come home.

You will be pleased to learn, my housekeeping skills have improved. The manse is quite large and due to the great number of invited and uninvited guests we receive, I need to keep on top of things. The church elders have certain expectations and with them already fidgety about our lack of years, if not experience, I have to be the perfect curate's wife. Phyllis you know how clumsy I am, but I don't think I have let Tom down, as yet. Next time you see Mrs Turner ask her where I can find one of those Au Pairs.

We have added Trixie to our daily prayer list. Please let me know when Sister Monica Joan receives a date for her operation. Of course you are all, always in our prayers.

Please give our love to all at Nonnatus and Kenilworth Row. Violet wrote me a lovely letter, keeping me up to date with all the Poplar gossip. I can't say I am sorry, I missed the beauty contest. Even though I do think Valerie should have won.

Tom says hello.

I miss you awfully too Phyllis and your invaluable common sense

Hopefully we will soon be home for good.

Your Dear Friend

Barbara.

PS. I have just received some excellent news, Cynthia has been discharged. Her parents only live a few miles away. I will arrange a visit when she feels up to it. I will forward her address to Nonnatus once I have her permission.

B x


	5. Ladrillo y Mortero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading it means so much. Barabara has returned to Poplar and our friends could do with a good night out.

"Barbara, you look lovely lass, now get a move on. We are going to be late!"

Phyllis Crane smoothed her skirt and shifted uncomfortably, perched on the end of the Hereward's bed.

"I am really not sure blue is my colour," responded Barbara, fixated on the image in the mirror. "It looks more like something Mrs Turner would wear."

Phyllis shook her head, "It's like Trixie has never gone away, you've been preening yourself in front of that mirror for nigh on 20 minutes lass."

"Well that's just it. Trixie always does my hair and I am not sure I have got it quite right. It looks a bit like, how would you put it...a donkey's hind leg!"

Phyllis gave Barbara a sideways glance in response to her awkward attempt at a Yorkshire accent. She took her tongue out of the side of her cheek and cleared her throat.

"I do understand, Trixie usually gives this old piece of brass a bit of a polish, for occasions such as this," she replied, frustratingly trying to see herself in the glass from behind Barbara. "I was going to ask young Valerie, but she was getting prepared for her Health and Relationship class."

Phyllis continued, “I did think to ask Lucille, but she is a bright kid and must have guessed. She has perfected a _please don't ask me, because I find it hard to say no_ look. She then scurried off to help Valerie."

Barbara burst out laughing at her friends astuteness. "You could have always asked Sister Winifred, I think she has hidden depths."

"Well as long as they remain hidden," chuckled Phyllis

Barbara's face suddenly turned serious. "Talking of things being hidden, I received a letter from Trixie today. It wasn't terribly revealing. The sun is hot, the sky is blue, that sort of thing." Phyllis nodded as her friend continued, "I must confess my letter to her was equally as bland."

"The important thing is you are corresponding, you are aware of each other, the words are the least important thing," the older woman added softly.

Less softly, "Right Rodrigo, won't wait for two Poplar midwives. Chop chop! Lass!"

The two friends entered the crowded Iris Knight Institute. It was strange visiting the clinical setting out of uniform. The cafe area had been prepared for the evening's entertainment. Red and white checkered linen covered the tables, white candles had been forced into old wine bottles. A selection of cold food was available from the kitchen, which Phyllis was very keen to inform Barbara was the Poplar Women's Institute's attempt at creating Tapas.

A shy attractive looking gentleman of about 45, was sat on a kitchen stool, dressed in an open necked, well washed red shirt. When new it had probably been a vibrant scarlet, but was now a lack luster salmon. He kept his head down tuning his guitar. The cafeteria began to fill with cigarette smoke from eager East End music lovers, mostly of a certain age. Barbara decided to add to the atmosphere, taking out of her bag a lighter and cigarette case. Only to be admonished by Phyllis.

"No wonder you are always coughing and sniffling. At first I blamed the Black Country air, but it's gone on a bit too long now. Do you really have to?"

Barbara returned the offending articles to her bag, like a child trying to hide a catapult.

"I'll get us some drinks, shall I?" Barbara slinked off towards a picnic table also colourfully decorated. A large glass bowl of sangria looked very inviting.

"Is it alcoholic?" queried Barbara.

"Not very," came the reply, "a bit like tonic wine with fruit, sweetheart."

A wave of nausea flushed through Barbara, "One cup please and an orange juice."

The WI lady smiled and fulfilled the young nurses order.

When she returned to the table. Phyllis eyed the orange juice, "Something you're not telling me?"

"No! nothing like that, Phyllis. I am just not over fond of red coloured beverages."

Barbara paused for a moment as if she was complementing whether to speak.

"We are hoping that Tom will soon be given the permanent position at All Saints', well as permanent as any position in the religious life."

"That would be wonderful, Barbara and no more than you and Tom deserve. He has been running that church for as long as I can remember."

"I think his acceptance in being sent to Birmingham, followed by the work he did there, has proved to the Church his commitment," Barbara replied.

"You could move into the manse, that would make a lovely big home, Barbara."

The young woman smiled at her friend, took a sip of her orange juice and added shyly,

"And maybe we could even then start to think about filling it."

Phyllis couldn't prevent a pleased grin creeping across her lips and a warmth spread over her cheeks. Her heart quickened its pace, ever so slightly. She had never asked Barbara about her and Tom's plans to start a family. She knew from Barbara's adventures at the Family Planning Clinic, that there hadn't been any point in saving the top tier of the wedding cake; for an imminent christening, as was the custom in both Leeds and Poplar.

She guessed from the lack of news on that front, Barbara had mastered the fiendish piece of rubber eventually. Phyllis brought new life into the world everyday, but being an only one, and an unexpected only one at that, she didn't have any nieces or nephews to spoil. She had long ago abandoned any thoughts of having her own family. The midwife had been too busy helping others build theirs.

To be truthful she had never really met anyone she wanted to build a family with; once her dashing airman was gone. The men she met, that she may have found attractive, were for the most part married. If not they would have demanded too much of her. They would want to be in charge, expect her to sacrifice. The thought of having a child out of wedlock had been unthinkable, Phyllis knew all to well the stigma and hardship that involved. But if Barbara and Tom had a child that would be, well it would be wonderful, it would be family.

She enjoyed babysitting occasionally for the Turners and was fond of Angela and Teddy. Timothy no longer required childminding, if the boy ever did. She had felt foolish, when she once believed Shelagh was going to ask her to deliver her baby. In her own hopefulness she had completely underestimated the depth of feeling between Shelagh and Sister Julienne. She now understood completely.

Phyllis had never known her as Sister Bernadette, but Shelagh Turner and her were friends. She enjoyed the younger woman’s company and no nonsense attitude. She envied the way she had managed to hold on to her career and create such a loving home and beautiful family, something Phyllis had rarely seen work so well. Dr Turner seemed to support his wife and enjoy watching her breathe, rather than trying to suffocate her, like many doting husbands she had met

Phyllis mused, maybe this wasn't so unique, maybe this was going to be the way of things. If folk wanted nice housing, cars and these new package foreign holidays, then things would have to change for women. The Pill was changing women’s lives and hopefully would in time also menfolk’s minds. Phyllis smiled ruefully, it was too late for her, but not for Barbara and her generation and definitely not for Angela Turner or any little Hereward that might come along.

The shy Spanish guitarist had come to life as soon as he had started playing. His fingers caressed and attacked his instrument in turn. He confidently commanded the room as he played classical pieces and standards, seamlessly switching styles. It was only when he paused, did the bashful musician return to looking down again, almost startled by the enthusiastic applause.

Barbara was convinced he glanced over to their table more than once during the performance, but maybe everyone felt like that. Mrs Herward wouldn't be surprised though, the joy conveyed on her friends face made the older woman look radiant. Phyllis looked ten years younger and Barbara was transfixed, riding along on her friend's wave of passion.

Both ladies thanked the talented guitarist for his time. Phyllis never without her camera, asked a WI lady to take a picture of the three of them. The humble musician came alive again for the photo, enabling Phyllis to capture a winning smile for posterity. Barbara noticed her friend was shaking slightly as she handed over the camera, still reeling from the vibration of the emotional evening.

As they were leaving they passed a table-for-one by the door. A grey haired man with a well groomed beard, smiled at them and raised his cup of sangria towards Phyllis. In return she gave him a warm smile and continued towards the door.

Barbara paused and glanced back at the distinguished gentleman, with a twinkle now brightening his sad eyes. They were fixed on watching Phyllis leave.

"Phyllis was that-?"

"A wonderful evening!" interrupted Phyllis.

"Phyllis you are a brick"

"And you kid, keep me in my place, like mortar, you hold everything together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Dani for always helping me with Phyllis and her love of Spanish.


	6. Dear Shelagh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sharing this short exploration of Barbara and Phyllis' friendship. The final chapter is another letter from a different sender and recipient.

Saint Aston's Parish Church  
Handsworth  
Birmingham

5th November 1963

Dear Shelagh,

I know this letter will find you in testing times. The only small offer of comfort I can extend, is that I also share the pain of your loss. Even so many miles away I feel so close to my Nonnatun family, because of you. Thank you for your thoughtful correspondence at what must be a most difficult time, but also a busy one.

I have found great solace in your consideration keeping me abreast of events in London. Although it is not only for myself that your words have provided comfort. The whole congregation and wider community here, are also mourning Mrs Hereward.

As you will know, probably through Dr Turner, I am now classed as a day patient at Northfield. I visit once a month or more frequently, if they or I feel it is required. At first it felt very foreign to me, being back in a suburban setting, but my family were very patient and kind. As they have been throughout this whole trying time.

Dear Barbara knew of my discharge and came to visit me at my parents. We found we were no great distance apart. A direct bus route connected my family home and the Hereward's church.

I started attending regularly and saw there was a need to help Barbara in the Sunday School, so I offered my services. The Herwards were very generous in their gratitude. When to be truthful, it was actually I, that had the greatest reason to be grateful. I enjoyed being useful again and being back in a place of faith.

I have also found that some of my other rather unremarkable talents have come in useful. When the organist is unavailable, my somewhat lacking skills at the piano are called upon. As you may recall, I am no Timothy. I have also added to the rather scant choir. Barbara must have mentioned my Girls Brigade experience and I have also been able to help in some capacity.

I had felt very much part of a community at Northfield, a very peculiar one at times. A family brought together by one common dysfunction, so many of us had very little else to commend us to one another. I hadn't realized how reliant I had become on this truly dysfunctional family, until it was time to leave them.

The bond that tied us together, may in certain cases, have only consisted of one single thread. It may as well have been made of steel, considering the pain of breaking it on parting. The thread that binds me to the Herewards church is a familiar one. I know it is one you know so well. I must confess that for some time, I was unsure if those chords would ever support me again. They only seemed to restrict or restrain me.

Following the Hereward's return to Poplar, I found myself drawn closer to the church. The reverend here, is older than Tom and himself a widower. Tom and Barbara brought a great deal of energy. Taking into consideration the permanent vicar's health, unfortunately he is still not fully restored from his illness. I sensed a shortfall in the vibrancy that the Herewards had helped to create here. After the dreadful news had reached us from home of Barbara's death, I felt more than ever that the onus was on me. I had to try and prevent the good work of the Herewards from being squandered and forgotten far too quickly.

I have therefore taken on the role of live-in housekeeper to our dear vicar. He is a good man with a strong faith with a ministry of compassion and justice. This has given me such joy, for I am no longer a burden to my family and am making my way, once more independently, in the world. I have also taken on a lot of the somewhat tedious administration that running a parish church affords.

At first I was afraid I may be taking on a little too much. If I can somehow help to maintain some sort of legacy for the Herewards here in Birmingham. That in itself will provide me with no end of strength and vitality.

Would you pass on my sincere apologies for not attending Barbara's funeral to Nonnatus. I have written a personal letter of condolence to Mr Hereward. The congregation here wanted to do something specific to remember Barbara. So we held our own memorial service. It was very simple, but quite beautiful. We had more parishioners come to pay their respects, than make-up our Sunday morning congregation. The Herewards, in such a short time, had very much become part of this neighbourhood.

As much as I long to see you all again, I felt that this wasn't the right time. I believe I am more use here and Tom would understand and maybe be glad of it. If I am to be completely honest with you Shelagh, I felt a return to Poplar at present would raise too many questions. Ones I am afraid I still can not find the answers to. It is not from want of searching on my part.

I believe the Lord has placed me here for a purpose. Though the work that I am doing is small and I can nowhere near replicate the efforts and rewards of the Herewards time here. I feel this is where my journey rests for now.

I don't believe I ever really thanked Dr Turner for referring me to Northfield. Would you please do that on my behalf. When I was at Nonnatus and Chichester, I felt a great sense of expectation. It was probably imagined, I am not sure. I felt I had to overcome what had occurred, for the sake of others. In the institution I felt I needed to be healed, again for the sake of others and their reputations. At Northfield no-one expected anything of me. I wasn't forced to try and overcome or heal. Just given time to be where I was and who I was, and then time to find out who that now is. I am still not entirely sure, but for the first time in a very long time, I am not afraid to find out.

Please send my most heartfelt condolences to all at Nonnatus. If you get to speak to Trixie, please tell her I can be contacted at the Hereward's old Birmingham address and long to hear from her.

Hope this finds you and your family well, I hope to meet Teddy soon and visit your new home. I hope Angela and Sister Monica Joan enjoyed the birthday cards, as much as the Sunday School children enjoyed making them. 

God be with you always

Your dear friend

Cynthia Miller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate everyone who has took the time to look at these stories first published on FF. net. After Easter there is one more Turnadette story and then a longer fic following Trixie's early years at Nonnatus.
> 
> For Easter there is something NEW coming very soon for Crown regulars!


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